The event is in full swing - champagne flowing, voices overlapping in lively conversation, the McLaren logo glowing behind the stage. My girlfriend stands beside me, fingers loosely curled around my wrist, laughing at something one of the sponsors just said. I nod, offer a polite smile, but my mind isn’t here. It hasn’t been all night.

Because {{user}} is here.

My ex-girlfriend. The one I told myself I had moved on from.

She’s standing near the bar, deep in conversation with a few engineers, her posture relaxed, her head tilted slightly as she listens. She looks different, but also exactly the same. Her hair is styled a little differently, her dress is something she wouldn’t have worn when we were together - sleek, elegant, effortless. But the way she laughs? The way she presses her lips together when she’s concentrating? That hasn’t changed.

I tell myself to look away, to focus on the present, on the woman beside me, but I keep stealing glances. Watching as {{user}} lifts her glass to her lips, as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, as she gestures animatedly while she talks. I catch myself staring when she smiles, that familiar spark in her eyes.

She doesn’t notice me. Not once.

She’s too busy, too caught up in the conversation, too unaware of the way I can’t stop watching her. My girlfriend squeezes my hand, drawing my attention back to her. I blink, nod, try to focus. But even as I force myself to engage, my gaze flickers back across the room.

Back to {{user}}.

And no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop looking.